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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26360782">Beaten</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil'>Merixcil</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2019 [28]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wicked + The Divine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Trans Character, F/F, Fights, First Dates, Gen, Transphobia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2019-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2019-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:01:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26360782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Her mother always told her that she picked all the wrong battles.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cassandra Igarashi | Urdr &amp; Laura Wilson | Persephone, Cassandra Igarashi | Urdr/Laura Wilson | Persephone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2019 [28]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beaten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s not like Cass has never been in a fight before. She’s been angry all her life, first at the hand she was dealt, then by the push back when she tried to change her fate, and finally when she grew cynical enough to realise that the truth isn’t just out there, it’s plastered over the root of all the world’s evils as clear as the billboards peering down on the Westway, and still people weren’t listening to her when she gave it voice. </p><p>Point being, when someone clocks her and decides to make a song and dance about it, she’s not particularly good at brushing it off. “Excuse me?” She stops dead in the street, left hand already balling into a fist. The neanderthal who thinks he’s being clever with an offhand remark about the contents of her underwear is walking away, leering over his shoulder. Six foot four and heavy set. Her mother always told her that she picked all the wrong battles. </p><p>Her father always said she picked far too many. Then he would smile, and ruffle her hair, and when she didn’t want to join the school rugby team he took her to the library and didn’t complain when she made him sit in the foyer for three hours at a time. No prizes for guessing which parent she’s still in touch with. </p><p>“Just saying.” The guy shrugs, with the infuriating smirk of a man who’s sure that no one’s going to call him on his bullshit. “You need a bit more work done before it’s convincing. I can still see your Adam’s apple clear as anything.”</p><p>He’s far enough away that he has to raise his voice for her to hear him and that gets people staring. This is London, and most of them don’t worry too much about it but it’s pathetically easy to pick out the people with enough liberal sensibilities to pause, hoping desperately that they don’t have to get involved here. There’s a skinny guy in a pinstripe suit, glasses and beard and balding head, who’s probably straight out of a middle management job at a charity that only does moderately important work, and a pair of teenage girls with Steven Universe patches ironed onto their bags. </p><p>Cass is not about to stand here and let a couple of kids watch her fail to stand up for herself. “And please tell me what the fucking fuck made you think that I cared for your unsolicited opinion?”</p><p>The guy shakes his head and starts to walk away, bored. Decent wage, half decent morals guy pipes up rather meekly “You can’t talk to…them…like that!” But his voice doesn’t carry, just as he’s hoping it won’t. Still, good effort on his part. Most guys in his position wouldn’t even have tried, let alone bothered to not make assumptions about her gender. </p><p>But the fucks are out of the bag and Cass can be late for her dinner date that evening if she wants to be. She marches after the idiot, getting a hand on his shoulder and dragging him round to face her. “Hey!”</p><p>He shoves her, hard, hands landing barely shy of her tits. “Oi, fuck off.”</p><p>“Me fuck off?” Cass laughs indignantly. “Me? I’m the one fucking off here? You interjected myself into my day uninvited.”</p><p>The man rises up, puffing out his chest like he thinks that’s supposed to scare her. Cass may have avoided the rugby team in the end, but she could have joined if she’d wanted to. Fuck it, she’s almost as tall as him as is. “It’s a free country. You go out in public looking like that and people are gonna talk, innit?”</p><p>“It’s a free country so I can go out in public looking however I like.” Cass spits back. And maybe she’s just a tiny bit annoyed that he noticed in the first place. She’d been feeling so confident recently. “Now are you going to apologise or am I going to have to make you apologise?”</p><p>Not the first time she’s made that threat, not the first time she’s had to follow through on it either. Cass doesn’t particularly like settling anything through violence but some people pigheadedly refuse to listen. The hard part is remembering that she’s not a God anymore, and she has limits. This is a fight that she’s not entirely unprepared for, but it would be unfair to describe her as particularly ready for it either. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She wakes up to the bleeping of a heart rate monitor that she’s very relieved to discover is not hooked up to her. Instead she has a bandage around her head like a blasted cartoon character and the rather tender remnants of a dislocated jaw. </p><p>And if that weren’t bad enough, Laura fucking Wilson is here. “What are you doing?” Cass grinds out, wincing against the pain in her jaw. She must look pretty dreadful because Laura offers a rather sad smile in response, pity brewing in her ridiculous green eyes that she’s rather unsubtley oh so proud of. Like she’s the protagonist in an uninspired YA novel. </p><p>“You had me down as your emergency contact.” Laura informs her, gently. She reaches for the glass of water on the bedside stand and passes it over. </p><p>Cass takes a sip, and immediately realises how thirsty she is, chugging the whole cup in a few gulps. Laura puts the glass back without a word. </p><p>Cass frowns. “Why the fuck are you my emergency contact?”</p><p>“No idea.” Laura shrugs. “Was thinking you’d have a better idea than me.”</p><p>No idea at all. Probably a hangover from Godhood where for all her petulance and wanton self destruction, Persephone often felt like the only person in the room who gave half a damn about the truth. Urðr could at least trust her to be what she claimed to be and nothing more. </p><p>Laura asks if she’d like a mirror to look at the damage and Cass tells her that she can see it all when she needs to take a piss. Then Laura asks what happened and seems both horrified and totally unsurprised when she finds out, in that way people get when discovering that the lives of other have very different material consequences from their own, sure that she could go to the police. </p><p>Cass can only laugh. What are the police going to do? Besides, she threw the first punch, no doubt about who would wind up at the wrong end of the law there. The one good piece of news is that the man himself doesn’t appear to have been taken in, so he’s probably not going to press charges. </p><p>There’s no need for her to stay overnight, so once Cass has received her painkiller prescription and agreed to go and see her GP in two week’s time to make sure she’s healing properly - a commitment she would love to avoid but begrudgingly agrees is good for her - she and Laura leave together. Her belongings, her wallet and her phone, are still tucked into the pockets of her leather jacket. </p><p>“What are you doing now?” Laura asks as they head for the bus stop.</p><p>“Going to a pharmacy to pick up these pills.” Cass waves her prescription slip. “Then heading home. I still have deadlines to make.”</p><p>Laura nods, dips her head, bites her bottom lip. And oh no, oh god fucking dammit, Cass knows that look. Hates it. Would sell her soul to never have to be in the room with it again as long as she lives.</p><p>“I don’t suppose…” Laura sidles in close, till her elbow grazes Cass’s side, still not quite looking at her. “That you would want to go get a coffee or something?”</p><p>Then come the eyes, brilliant green and glowing in the low hanging sunlight. It’s not half compelling, as far as arguments go. </p><p>The pharmacy will be open tomorrow morning if she needs to visit. “Fuck it.” Cass kicks at the ground and nothing in particular. “Fine, one coffee. But only because I’m feeling sorry for myself. I hope you’re paying.”</p><p>“Well, you are in the invalid, it’s only natural that I should be taking care of you.” Laura can say anything like it’s an attempt at seduction. It would be easy to mock her for it if it didn’t so often work out for her. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This work was originally posted as part of a multi chaptered 'whumptober' fic that I'm trying to split up. If you think you've read it before, you probably have</p></blockquote></div></div>
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